


don’t know if you love me or you want me dead

by I_have_more_ships_than_friends



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Diego POV, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fist Fights, Friends to lovers to enemies to lovers again, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, Masturbation, Mental Institutions, Past Child Abuse, Slow Dancing, Stuttering Diego Hargreeves, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Commission, diego hargreeves gets pegged
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25837429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_more_ships_than_friends/pseuds/I_have_more_ships_than_friends
Summary: Diego Hargreeves had resigned himself to being a lone wolf, content solving problems by himself, not wanting to rely on anyone else, especially his family.Then he wound up in 1963 after failing to stop the apocalypse. Then he got thrown in an asylum for trying to stop the assassination of JFK.And then he met Lila Pitts.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Lila Pitts
Comments: 22
Kudos: 104





	1. they told me all of my cages were mental

**Author's Note:**

> Basically just the Diego and Lila scenes from season 2 from Diego’s POV with added backstory and feelings. I really loved their relationship and I wish we had gotten to see more of their backstory so I decided to write it myself please enjoy. Chapter title from “this is me trying” by Taylor Swift

The Holbrook Sanitarium was officially the worst and most mind-numbingly boring place Diego had ever been in. 

Each day had the exact same routine, without fail. He ate when they told him to: three meals in the cafeteria, consisting of bland, flavorless foods intended only to provide enough sustenance to get through the day. 

He slept, or at least tried to sleep, when they told him to: either during quiet time or after lights out, most of the time spent lying awake in his narrow bed trying desperately not to think about his family, although he managed to catch a few hours here and there. Thankfully, as a former vigilante, he was used to running on very little sleep. 

He even socialized when they told him to, even though very little socializing actually happened. Arts and crafts was something he managed to participate in without actually having to talk to anybody, most of the time spent on boring mindless tasks that gave him an excuse not to mingle. 

Unfortunately, there were about a dozen other daily pointless group activities meant to encourage “self-improvement” and “internal healing” or whatever other bullshit they said to make themselves feel better, so his solace rarely lasted for long.

And then there was his least favorite activity of all. 

Group therapy. 

Every day, he and about a half dozen other patients would sit in a circle with a doctor, forced to open up and talk about their feelings and trauma for what felt like hours. He did his best to never speak up more than what was absolutely necessary, because what kind of reactions would he get if he ever told even a fraction of the truth? He could only imagine how that conversation would go. 

_Let’s talk about your father._

Well, he adopted me and six other kids from mothers who all magically became pregnant and gave birth at the exact same time, tortured and abused us in order to train us to be superheroes, and sent us out on missions to fight crime starting at the age of ten. One of my brothers disappeared when we were thirteen, then one of my other brothers died on a mission a couple years later, which he blamed me and my remaining siblings for. Then, we all left to start our own lives and didn’t come back until our father killed himself in order to reunite all of us so that we could stop an impending apocalypse.

And that would be without mentioning the robot mother, the chimpanzee butler, or the time travel. 

Apart from how much therapy sucked, he couldn’t act out or disobey orders in any way unless he wanted to be beaten, stabbed with needles, and locked in solitary. He was sure that the asylum would’ve been a miserable experience regardless of what color his skin was, but the nurses’ attitudes towards people who looked like him was noticeably different than that of people who looked like them. 

So, he stayed quiet. Kept his head down. Stayed out of trouble to the best of his abilities. Tried his best to participate enough to make the doctors believe he was improving, but not enough to arouse suspicion. 

He made sure to distance himself from the other patients, because anyone who got too close would start asking questions, and he didn’t have the energy to come up with that many lies. Nobody bothered to try to befriend him because of this, with one notable exception. 

Lila Pitts, who had arrived shortly after him, seemed either oblivious to or just unbothered by his attempts to isolate himself, and had made it her personal mission to talk to him at every possible opportunity. She seemed to be more strange than genuinely insane, often prone to laughing at inappropriate times, invading people’s personal space, and sneaking food out of the cafeteria in her shoes. 

She frequently would ask him weird random questions, like what his favorite ice cream flavor was (he hadn’t eaten ice cream since he was a kid, so he honestly didn’t know), or if he thought that woman in the cell next to his looked a bit like Clint Eastwood (yes). 

He ignored most of her questions, occasionally answering one or two in an attempt to get her to stop. It never worked. 

After a week of her constant attempts to befriend him, he got tired of ignoring her. When one day she began lunchtime by plopping down next to him and staring unblinking at him as she stole French fries off his plate and ate them, he finally cracked and decided it couldn’t be too bad to at least talk to her. 

They began an odd friendship, consisting mostly of mocking the nurses who were rude to them and making bets using Jell-O containers as currency. Her quick wit and biting sarcasm meshed well with his sense of humor, their banter providing much-needed entertainment to his days.

She was funny, much smarter than she initially let on, and somehow one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen even in the ridiculously unflattering white hospital clothes. Not that he was planning on telling her that. 

He felt instantly and helplessly drawn to her like he had never been to anyone else. Often, he’d get so lost in conversations with her that he’d temporarily forget where he was, before he was suddenly and viciously reminded by the sickeningly calm voice over the loudspeaker or a fellow patient having a screaming fit. 

Anyways, after 75 days in the asylum, he was starting to get restless. The president was going to be assassinated a week from today, and he had no plan for how to save him past escaping through his window. Not to mention, he felt like being here was starting to get to him. He felt jumpier, more paranoid than usual, constantly on edge and waiting to be attacked. He needed to get out, and soon. 

One morning during group, he was studiously avoiding eye contact with the doctor in order to prevent being called on. His eyes darted around the room, the constant chatter between the doctor and the patients going in one ear and out the other. 

“Diego? You’ve been awfully quiet this morning.” The voice of the doctor forced him to look up and make eye contact. 

“Just taking it all in, doc.” Deflect. Avoid any more questions. He’d already revealed way more than he wanted to these people. “Letting all the healing shit wash over me.” Better to let them think that any of this bullshit is doing anything. 

The doctor smiled in response, a patronizing expression one might have while speaking to a small child. “Last week you mentioned your father. How your whole childhood felt like some kind of experiment.” That had been a rare moment of emotional vulnerability, one he was deeply regretting now. 

“It was an experiment,” Diego responded, too irritated to play along with some bullshit story. The doctor made a noncommittal noise, clearly communicating that he didn’t believe Diego. 

“Or, did it just feel like an experiment?” Doctor Moncton questioned. Waves of annoyance rolled over him at the doctor’s words. 

“No, it was literally an experiment.” The doctor scribbled something in his notebook without looking at him. 

“Let’s dig deeper. You say your father is a villain.” Understatement of the year. At the doctor’s words, images flashed through his mind. His constant cuts from endless practice with knives, Klaus’s haunted expression after hours spent in the mausoleum, Ben’s tears leaving streaks in the blood that covered him after missions. 

“Hell yeah,” he answered quietly, the childlike fears and insecurities washing over him once again.

“So you had to play hero to make Daddy mad,” the doctor said in an almost mocking tone. Lila laughed at his words, seemingly unfazed by the circle of disturbed and incredulous expressions, only stopping when she turned to Diego and saw the warning look in his eyes. 

“I’m a grown-ass man, Doctor Moncton,” he began in an attempt to direct the conversation off of himself, only to be interrupted by the doctor. 

“Who still defines himself in opposition to his father. His dead father.” God, why couldn’t he talk about someone else’s problems? Anyone else’s? “That isn’t really defining yourself, is it, Diego?” 

He finally snapped and said, irritated, “Yeah, why don’t you tell that to Luke Skywalker?” only to be met with nothing but blank stares and confused expressions. Dammit. “I know you don’t get it, but that is an excellent reference.” Fucking time travel, ruining his best jokes. 

“Humor is good,” the doctor said, pausing to take off his glasses and fully look up from his notebook to make eye contact with Diego. “Truth is better.” If Diego actually told him the truth, he’d be locked in solitary in a straight jacket and pumped so full of pills he’d forget his own name. “Who is the real Diego?” Jesus Christ. He was so done with all this stupid soul searching bullshit. He just needed to give the doctor something, maybe get him off his back for a while, maybe even help him to get out sooner. 

“I don’t know.” He goes for his best wounded expression, hoping it’s convincing enough. “I guess I’ve never known.” He lets his voice waver a bit, just to add to the act. “But I’m ready. I’m ready to find out.” The doctor looks convinced, and almost genuinely impressed. 

Lila began to slow clap beside him, cigarette dangling between her lips framed by an expression of almost genuine amazement, and is quickly joined by the others as he wiped fake tears from his eyes. And...scene. 

“Thank you, Diego,” the doctor says as he stands up from his chair. “Okay, quiet time until lunch.” The others drift away to various parts of the room, just as Lila leaned in even closer, putting her mouth next to his ear. 

“You’re so full of shit,” she whispered with her rounded English vowels, all pretenses from earlier dropped in the blink of an eye. 

“Tears too much?” He responded easily, continuing their banter they’ve kept up these past weeks. 

“He saw right through it.” 

“No, he totally ate that shit up.”

“Bet you three lunch Jell-O’s you’re wrong.” He turned to look at her then, her face just inches away from his, the proximity making his heart jump in his chest. 

“You’re on.” 

“All right.” He stands up as she puts her cigarette back in her mouth, sliding over to his now unoccupied chair. 

He approached the doctor, who’s now standing by the door, having just finished a conversation with one of the nurses. “Hey, Doc, you got a sec?” Diego asks him. 

“Sure, Diego, what is it?” 

“I’ve been, uh, doing a lot better lately, haven’t I?” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, unable to stay still, hoping his expression looks repentant enough. 

“True. You’re calmer now, less combative.” Diego had lost count of how many fights he had started in the first week or two he’d been here. Pent up rage and single-minded determination to complete a mission wasn’t an optimal combination when he was locked in a hospital 24/7. Although, he had learned his lesson pretty quickly after the tenth or so time the nurses had stuck him in the arm with a needle and beat him the rest of the way into unconsciousness with a baton. “It’s nice to see you opening up in group.” 

So the tears _had_ worked. He glanced at Lila to enjoy a moment of gloating, only to be greeted with the sight of her putting cigarettes in her nostrils. He quickly shook off his confusion, thinking to himself that he should be used to her weird shit by now. “So, uh, when do you think I might be getting out of here?” He looked directly at the doctor, hoping his expression reads more ‘rehabilitated asylum patient’ and less ‘desperate crazy man’, although he’s afraid it might be more the latter. 

“Well, your review board will reassess your case in ninety days.” 

Shit. “Ninety days? No, I can’t, I can’t wait that long.” He needed out of here now, and if it couldn’t be legally he needed a new plan. 

“Just take it one day at a time, okay?” The doctor patted him on the chest with his notebook, and the pen in the doctor’s jacket pocket catches his eye. Bingo. 

The doctor starts to turn away, and Diego grabbed his arm, stepping in front of him and blocking his path. “No, you don’t...you don’t understand. They’re going to kill the president a week from today.” There’s pretty much no way this tactic will work, but it’s at least worth a shot. 

The doctor sighed and removed his glasses. “Diego, I thought we’d moved past this.” So that’s a no. “You know what a hero complex is?” God, not this bullshit again. 

“Yeah, it’s for assholes who think they’re actual heroes-“ 

The doctor cut him off once again. “This paranoid fantasy about President Kennedy is what got you committed in the first place.” 

“Look, they are going to kill him. They’re gonna shoot him in the head right here in Dallas!” He poked his finger into the center of the doctor’s forehead to emphasize the point, using the doctor’s distraction to grab the pen from his jacket pocket and quickly slip it into his waistband. 

The doctor ordered him to let go in a slightly raised voice, forcing him to take his hands off him before a nurse has to drag him away, all the while repeating “I’m okay, I’m sorry,” over and over. He held his hands up as a clear sign of surrender as he retreated back to his chair and sat down next to Lila. He feels the pen digging into his back as he sits down, a clear sign of his success. Now he just needed to get out. 

*****

Later, in arts and crafts, he’s sitting next to Lila, struggling to tie together a stupid bead bracelet he’d tried to make in an attempt to keep his hands busy. “God, this is stupid,” he muttered, dropping the bracelet in irritation. He swore under his breath, crossing his arms and slumping back in his chair in defeat. 

“For you, maybe,” Lila responded in her usual snarky tone. She let out a sudden gasp, expression immediately brightening as she exclaims, “This’ll cheer you up,” before slamming her foot on top of the table and carefully extracting something from her shoe. 

“Bacon,” he stated, disturbed but mildly impressed at the same time. 

“Smuggled it out of the lunchroom.” She looked around the room as if someone might come to take it from her. “Do you want some?” Lila asked conspiratorially. She held the piece out in offering, clearly oblivious to his disgust. He declined, and looked away, mildly nauseated, as she bit off a chunk, clearly trying to rub it in his face. 

“To be honest, I was saving it for your great escape.” He looked at her with poorly concealed alarm. How did she know? 

“What are you talking about?” Diego attempted to deflect, although it was probably no use. Lila was far too smart for her own good. 

“Just saying, whatever it is you’re planning, I can be very resourceful.” He quickly checks behind his shoulder to make sure no one is listening in. 

“Look even if I was planning something, and I am not, you would be the last person I would take.” She seems unbothered by his insult, staring back with an unreadable expression. 

“It’s because of the Jell-O’s, right? You can have them back.” What? 

“No, it’s not because of the Jell-“ He rolled his eyes and changed course. These kinds of discussions with Lila could go on for hours if he let them. “I’m a lone wolf. I don’t run with a pack.”

“Perfect. Because I’m somewhat of a lone wolf myself,” Lila said in an obviously mocking tone, staring at him unblinking. She picked up a bottle of glue from the table and sniffed it deeply, letting out a noise of satisfaction. 

They’re interrupted by one of the nurses calling out his name, telling him he has a visitor. 

“Who?” Diego asked, hardly daring to get his hopes up. It has to be one of his siblings. No one else even knows him here, except for the police officers who arrested him, and he doubts that they would be too keen to come see him again after he attempted to stab them. Multiple times. 

Lila turned to him with a faux innocent look on her face. “Maybe Daddy finally came to say ‘I love you.’” 

“Piss off,” he said in a mocking English accent, sneering and standing up from his chair, not seeing her grab the bracelet he had been struggling with and slip it onto her wrist. 


	2. even your emotions have an echo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please listen to this chapter with the music from the episode playing in the background cause the soundtrack is absolutely incredible. Chapter title from “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley (which is the song playing during the first part of this chapter).

He was going to murder Five. That was the first thing that crossed his mind as he jolted awake in the padded room, still groggy from whatever the hell they’d shot into his arm. He shakes it off and quickly becomes aware of the fact that he’s in a straight jacket. The fog in his brain slowly cleared, a memory of his childhood surfacing. 

One week when he and his siblings were fourteen, his father had made them learn how to get out of a straight jacket, teaching them the quickest way to dislocate their shoulder for maximum efficiency. His father had forced him do it three times over the course of a few days as a demonstration for his siblings, each time having Grace methodically pop his shoulder back into place. His arm had been in a sling for three months afterwards. 

He struggled to his feet and began slamming his shoulder against the wall with all the force he could muster, until he hears the joint pop out of place with a blinding crack of pain. 

After that, it’s only a matter of getting the straight jacket over his head, every movement sending blinding agony through his dislocated shoulder. When the straight jacket was crumpled in a heap on the floor, he grabbed the stolen pen from his waistband and managed to pick the lock, opening the door as quietly as he could and slipping out. He limped down the hallway, bracing himself against the wall with his uninjured arm. 

He’s alerted to the fact that something is wrong by the warning lights that begin flashing, red tinged light fading in and out, illuminating the nurse coming around the corner. _Shit_.

“Hargreeves. What are you doing out here?” 

“I’m sleepwalking,” he said unconvincingly. He lunged at the nurse, fists outstretched, stopped dead by the nurse catching his arm and punching him in his dislocated shoulder, instantly knocking him to the ground. 

“Like to run your mouth, smart ass?” The nurse stepped closer to his fallen body, hovering menacingly as he drew out his baton. “It’s gonna be hard after I break your jaw.” He braced himself for the pain, but a loud clang of metal and the sound of the nurse’s body hitting the floor startled him out of it.

Through the black spots dancing across his field of vision, he sees Lila’s face looking back at him, grinning manically. “Lila?” 

“You’re not the only one who wants out, wolf man!” She grabbed him and started helping him up, softening her grip at his cry of pain and warning about his shoulder.

She stepped in closer after he got to his feet, the heat of her body momentarily distracting him from the agony in his shoulder. He glanced down at her lips only an inch away from his, just as she seized his arm and popped his shoulder back into place, letting out a howl that drowned out his yell of pain. 

She slung his uninjured arm around her shoulder and they started stumbling down the hallway, halting when they’re greeted with the sight of three blond men walking towards them. He spotted the guns a split second later, and grabbed Lila’s arm, dragging her in the opposite direction as bullets ricochet off the walls behind them. 

They sprinted through the hallways side by side, trying to get as far away from the gunfire as possible. 

“Who are those guys?” She sounded more angry than afraid, like she was personally offended that someone would try to shoot her. 

“No idea.” He spots the office and is immediately struck with an idea, sliding to a halt and stumbling inside the door. 

“What the hell are you stopping for?” Lila asked incredulously. 

“We need a distraction.” He flipped the switch that controlled the doors to the cells, and his ears were immediately greeted with the sounds of delighted escaping patients. 

He seized Lila and they took off running once again, jerking open the door to a maintenance closet and spotting the door to a chute. They clambered inside, sliding down and finding themselves in a hallway, presumably underneath the asylum, immediately taking off running once again. They came to an intersection of hallways and stopped, looking both ways. 

“Which way?” Diego asked, hoping that for some reason she would know the answer. 

“Right,” she said, so confidently that he almost believed her. 

“Why right?”

“Why not?” Fair enough. He murmured in agreement and took off running after her, running smack dab into a police officer only seconds later and falling to the ground with a painful thud. 

“Thank god you’re here. Three men just tried to attack us,” Lila said, pointing to the hallway behind her. The officer immediately pulled out his gun, cocking it and pointing it directly at Lila’s face. 

“Get your hands up, _now_ ,” the officer demanded. 

“Wait, you don’t understand, we’re not the bad guys,” he attempted to defend them from his position on the ground, his vision still blurry from pain. 

“Shut your mouth and stay on the ground!” The officer’s words were cut off by Lila kicking the gun out of his hands, kneeing him in the stomach, and knocking him out with a single well-placed punch to the face. 

Diego struggled to his feet, overcome by a mixture of confusion, awe, and more attraction than he would care to admit. “Where’d you learn how to fight like that?” 

“My mother.” That’s something to be discussed later. “Come on,” she said, taking hold of his arm and dragging him down the hallway towards a doorway marked ‘stairs’. They stumbled through the door and up the flight of stairs out into the courtyard, sprinting across it as fast as they could with Lila semi-dragging him. 

After slipping through the gate, they ran across the street, hiding themselves behind one of the cars parked along the curb. They poked their heads out over the car after the sound of police sirens passed by them, making sure no one had spotted them. 

“This way.” He got up and quickly checked to make sure there weren’t any cars coming before jogging across the street towards an alleyway, the sound of footsteps behind him signaling that Lila was following. 

They paused once they turned the corner, peering around it to make sure they weren’t being followed. “Alright, we can’t stay here for too long,” he said, his mind already starting to switch over into mission mode. He checked over his shoulder to make sure that the alleyway was empty and spotted a clothesline hanging between two windows. “They’re gonna be looking for us.”

“The cops or those large Scandinavian fellows with guns?” Lila asked, slightly breathless. 

“Both,” he replied, turning and jogging towards the dumpster in the alley, jumping on top of it to begin climbing up to the clothesline. 

“What are you doing?” Lila questioned as he started pulling clothes off the line. 

“I’m not gonna get very far dressed like a lobotomy case,” he stated, throwing the clothes at Lila. 

“You mean _we_ won’t get very far.”

“Look, I appreciate your help,” he began, pulling his shirt over his head as he spoke, “but now we- oh.” He broke off at the sight of her pulling her own clothes off, turning around to try to be respectful as well as to prevent a possible embarrassing situation. The undergarments they provided at the asylum didn’t exactly conceal much. “Now we go our separate ways.” 

“Why?” He can hear her dropping her shirt to the ground and has to suppress the urge to turn around to see her now bared torso. 

“Because they’re gonna be looking for us.” He’s pleased to discover that his stolen shirt fits well, if a bit snug across the chest. “Together. We stand a better chance on our own.” 

“You need me,” she said stubbornly. He deliberately did _not_ think about how true that was. “We make a good team.” 

He made a noise of disagreement as he pulled on the stolen pair of pants. “Too dangerous.”

“You didn’t think so back in the fun house when I saved your ass,” she responded incredulously. “Or did you forget about that?” 

The sound of police sirens approaching saves him from having to make any kind of a retort, and he immediately grabbed Lila, pulling her behind a pole to hide from the passing car, her body pressed entirely against his for the second time that night. 

He silently willed himself to stay calm, hoping the imminent danger of being arrested would be enough of a deterrent for his libido. 

“Your fly’s undone,” she whispered, prompting him to look down. “Gotcha.”

“What is wrong with you?” She rested her chin on his shoulder to look at the police car passing by them, neither of them breathing until the sirens faded away. The close proximity had his heart beating faster than he’d care to admit. 

“Come on, we’ll take my car,” Lila said confidently. Her car? 

“What car?” He sees her pick up a brick from the ground and realizes a split second too late what she’s about to do. 

“This one,” she stated, hurling the brick through the driver’s side window of the car parked in the alley. He honestly shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. She’d done way weirder and more impulsive shit in the asylum, and besides, car theft didn’t seem like something that would bother her. Still, the noise might have woken somebody, and a stolen car could be easy to track if it was called in. 

“Hey,” he tried to say over her giggling as she hot wired the car. 

“What? You don’t like the color?” Lila asked casually. He just stared at her, trying to come up with an appropriate response. “Stop being a princess and _get in!_ ” He quickly tried to shush her, running over to the passenger side door. Christ. If the window shattering didn’t wake someone, her yelling definitely did. 

“You know the other window was open, right?” She grinned in response, and he had to turn his face towards the window to hide his smile at the sight. _Don’t fucking fall for this girl, Hargreeves._

****

They spent the night driving around the city, frequently having to pull over onto side streets or into alleyways to hide from passing police cars. There were sirens all over the city, almost certainly looking for him, Lila, and the two dozen other patients he had released from the hospital. At least he wasn’t the only escaped fugitive. Might give them a better chance of not getting caught. 

When Diego was positive they weren’t being followed, he directed Lila to the Texas School Book Depository. If Five wasn’t going to help him save the president, he’d do it his goddamn self. 

“Alright, here’s the plan,” he began, eyes locked onto the entrance of the building. “Oswald finishes his shift at 4:30 P.M. Once he walks out those doors, we force him into the front seat-“

“I’m in the front seat,” she interrupted. 

“Okay, fine,” he conceded, glancing over at Lila, “in the _back_ seat. You’re gonna pin his arms down, I’m gonna cut off his trigger finger and tell him he has 24 hours to exit Dallas.” 

“That’s your plan?” 

“You got a problem with it?” Diego asked, turning his head to look at her. 

“Well, why don’t we just kill him?” Lila asked casually. 

“What?” 

“I mean, you think he’s gonna shoot the president, right?” 

“Right,” he said, nodding in agreement. 

“Fine, so we kill him, put a bullet between his eyes, problem solved,” Lila said in a far too reasonable voice for the words that were coming out of her mouth. 

“Oh, no no no, I’m not going to kill a man before he’s committed a crime,” Diego insisted. 

“That’s stupid,” she retorted in an incredulous tone. 

“Excuse me?” Diego did his best to keep his voice as level as possible. 

“In fact, your whole plan is stupid,” she said, laughing slightly. “What, chopping off a guy’s finger?” 

“No, it’s not just any finger,” he began, slightly raising his voice in irritation, “it’s his trigger finger, all right? You can’t shoot a gun without a trigger finger.” 

“What if he’s ambidextrous?” Lila asked, spreading her hands to emphasize her point. He honestly didn’t have a response to that. She looked at him in disbelief. “How do you get through a day?” Okay, that’s it. 

“Get out,” he demanded. “I can do this on my own.” 

“Doctor Moncton was right, this hero complex is no joke,” she said, looking away from him. Jesus Christ, not this shit again. 

“That is _not_ what this is about-“ he began, only to get cut off by Lila. 

“Of course it is. You want to prove to Daddy that you’re a big success.” If one more goddamn person mentioned his father, he was going to start stabbing. 

“No, you don’t know _anything_ about me!” His voice had risen way louder than it should have, but he couldn’t help it. She was just so goddamn irritating sometimes. 

“I know everything about you. You are an open book written for _very_ dumb children,” she stated, rolling her eyes at his anger. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down so that he didn’t start yelling again. 

“I am not trying to be a hero, okay?” He stumbled a bit over his words, trying desperately not to stutter.

“Then why are you doing this?” Lila asked, sounding genuinely curious. 

“Because he is an idiot.” Five’s voice coming from the backseat startled Lila, but barely even fazed him. It had been a regular occurrence throughout their childhood for Five to randomly appear in rooms, allowing him to both practice his spatial jumps and irritate the shit out of his siblings. Two birds with one annoying stone. 

“Who the hell are you?” Lila demanded. 

“Hi,” Five said, putting on his fakest polite smile and waving at Lila. “I’m his loving brother.” 

“Who left me to rot in the nuthouse,” Diego said in an accusatory tone, turning in his seat to look at Five. 

“To protect you from yourself.” 

“That’s quite sweet,” Lila said, sounding almost sympathetic. Alright. That’s it. 

“Okay. Both of you, out,” he demanded, tired of having to deal with people interrupting his plans. 

Five lowered his voice and turned back to Diego. “Lose the crazy lady and come with me, we have important business.” Lila looked quite offended at being called crazy by someone who looked like a thirteen year old child. 

“I am not going anywhere with you,” Diego said, refusing to look back at Five, his arm still sore from where the nurses at the asylum had stuck him with a massive fucking needle after Five had ratted him out. 

“Okay, fine.” Well that was easy. He heard Five moving in the backseat, hopefully going for the door. “Officer!” Five yelled at the top of his lungs out the open window to a cop across the street. 

Diego immediately lunged for the backseat, grabbing Five’s arm and twisting him around to face him. “What are you doing?” 

“I hear there’s a reward out for you two,” Five said in a low voice, grinning nastily. 

“He’s bluffing,” Lila said in a far too calm voice for someone talking to Five. 

Diego looked into Five’s eyes, which betrayed not even a hint of untruthfulness. He was sure that Five would turn them in without a moment’s hesitation if they tested him. “He’s not. Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll go with you.” 

“What about me?” Lila had turned around in her seat to look at the two of them, smiling in a way that was probably supposed to be innocent. 

He sighed, accepting that this girl that he had befriended in a moment of loneliness in an asylum was now a part of his team, like it or not. “And I’m bringing the crazy lady,” he said defeatedly. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lila smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know literally nothing about injuries so my portrayal of Diego’s dislocated shoulder is probably really inaccurate so apologies for that. Next chapter should be up either later today or early tomorrow, I just need to finish editing it. Please leave kudos and/or comment because a bitch needs validation


	3. never wanna put my heart on the line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting, this chapter includes one of my favorite Diego and Lila scenes from the show and I had to edit it like a dozen times before I was happy with it. Please enjoy these adorable babies being soft with each other. Chapter title from “Locked Out of Heaven” by Bruno Mars

Five refused to let Lila drive, and took her spot in the driver’s seat after booting both of them to the backseat. Lila had looked incredibly confused at the fact that Diego was so calm with letting a thirteen year old drive a car, and Diego just gave her a look that indicated he would explain later. 

Five drove them to some electronics store called Morty’s Television & Radio that looked like it had been closed for years. Coming up the stairs, they were greeted with the sight of a cozy living room, the walls lined with electronics, and an open doorway at the other end of the room that probably led to the rest of the apartment. 

Suddenly, a man came out of the doorway, pointing a shotgun at them. “Where did you get the film?” His eyes were wide, his tone frantic. “‘The Frankel Footage.’ The truth this time!”

Diego, entirely unfazed by the gun pointed at him, didn’t even react. This wasn’t anywhere close to the first time he’d been threatened at gun point, and people hardly ever actually intended to shoot. “You know this lunatic?” Diego asked Five. 

Five sighed. “New acquaintance. He’s harmless,” he said, sounding exasperated. 

“Are you sure about that?” Lila asked, a touch of concern in her voice. 

“Are you or are you not an enemy of the people?” The man’s voice had risen to what was clearly supposed to be an intimidating level. 

Diego, very much not intimidated, replied “such an open ended question” at the same time Five said “really depends on the people” in an equally unbothered tone, glancing at each other and nodding in agreement before turning back to the man.

“You move one more muscle, I will blow your brains out,” the man threatened. Okay, this was getting a bit excessive.

“You want to take this or should I?” Diego asked Five quietly. 

“No, I got him,” Five replied confidently. 

“Hey, Lila,” he said softly, and she looked at him, turning her head away from Five, who at that exact moment teleported next to the man, grabbing his gun and forcing it to point up at the ceiling. The gun went off, shattering one of the skylights, and Diego lunged forward, easily taking the gun from him, removing the rounds and hearing the bullets clatter to the floor. 

“What the hell just happened?” Lila blurted out. 

Guess it was time to explain some things to Lila. 

****

After they had tied the man-whose name was Elliott, apparently-to one of the chairs in the apartment, Diego gave Lila the minimum amount of information, just explaining Five’s powers for now, leaving out his powers and the time travel and the siblings and the robot mother. 

She accepted it fairly quickly, and soon settled down in a chair next to Elliott’s, carefully painting her fingernails and starting to paint Elliott’s toenails when she had finished (where the hell had she gotten nail polish?) He and Five got Elliott’s projector set up so that they could watch the tape, The Frankel Footage, whatever the hell that was. 

As the tape started rolling, Diego settled himself on top of the counter, spinning a knife to keep his hands occupied. 

“They’re so cute,” Lila said, not looking up from her task. “I love old couples. I’m always so proud of them for not murdering each other.” 

“Why are we watching this?” Diego asked, turning to look at Five, distantly hoping for some clue on what the hell this was. Five shushed him, not taking his eyes off the tape playing on the wall. 

The couple on the tape introduced themselves as Dan and Edna Frankel, announcing that they were in Dallas to see the president. That got his attention. 

“ _Today’s date is November 22, 1963,_ ” the man on the tape announced, which Lila looked up at. 

“Well, that’s six days from now,” she said suspiciously. 

“Holy shit.” He was actually about to see it. There had to be some clues, something that would help him figure out how to stop the assassination. “This is it.” He leaned forward, eyes now locked onto the tape. “The grassy knoll. Kennedy’s about to get shot. How do you have this?” 

“Hazel died to get me this footage,” Five responded. “It must be the key to stopping doomsday.” 

He looked over at that. “Hazel?” The last time he had seen that particular time-traveling assassin, he’d tried to kill him, only to be stopped by Five smashing a vase over his head and knocking him unconscious. Needless to say, he doesn’t have the fondest memories associated with Hazel. 

“Long story,” Five said in lieu of an explanation.

“What’s doomsday?” Lila demanded. 

“Longer story.” Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt bad for not explaining more to Lila, but the very real, very near possibility of being able to save the president drowned that out. 

“What exactly did he say to you?” If Hazel had any clues about how to save the president, he needed to know. 

“Well, he was killed before he could explain.” He can’t say he’s sorry about that. Even if he had made his peace with Patch’s death and gave up on trying to kill Hazel and Cha Cha, that didn’t mean he was going to miss the assholes. “But whatever he wanted us to see, it’s on this film.” 

He turned back to look at the tape just in time to see the film turn on its side as the camera fell to the ground, gunshots and screams echoing through the speakers. “Oswald,” he muttered under his breath. 

The camera turned right side up again, probably kicked by somebody, and just then he spotted an eerily familiar figure on the film. “Oh no,” he heard Five whisper as he rewinded the tape. Five wheeled the cart holding the projector backwards, zooming in on the tape. “This can’t be.” 

“Okay, you gonna fill me in now, boys?” Lila’s voice betrayed a hint of panic. “What the hell is this shit we’re watching?” 

He and Five both stepped closer to the wall to examine the figure, both disbelieving of what they were seeing. “No, that’s impossible,” Diego said, unconvinced of his own words. 

“Clearly, it’s not,” Five retorted. 

Elliott mumbled something through his gag, clearly confused, as he and Five said in unison: “Dad.”

****

Diego slowly stumbled back in shock until he hit the counter, leaning against it to try to calm the thoughts swirling in his mind. “Of course Dad would be involved in the assassination. I should’ve known.”

Five shook his head. “No, you’re jumping to conclusions.” 

“What the hell else is he doing standing on the grassy knoll, holding an open black umbrella on a sunny day in Dallas the exact same moment the president gets shot?” Diego yelled, standing up in anger. 

“It doesn’t look good, I admit.” Five looks way too goddamn calm about this situation. Diego was most definitely not. 

“No, he’s the signalman for the whole goddamn thing,” Diego realized. 

“Easy, Diego,” Five said in his annoying condescending voice. “Seriously.” 

“No, it makes sense,” he began, the pieces coming together in his mind. “This is what Hazel was obviously trying to tell you. We have to stop Dad from killing the president.” 

“Diego, calm down, alright?” Jesus Christ, was no one taking this seriously except him? “Dad was no Boy Scout, but presidential assassination? It’s never been his thing.” Easy for him to fucking say. 

“How would you know?” Diego quietly asked. “You skipped out on his golden years.” 

Everything had been worse after Five left. They pretty much stopped pretending to be anything close to a family, their dad was harsher on them than he had ever been, forcing them to train and perfect skills for hours, not letting them stop for sleep or meals. They all still bore the scars from those ‘golden years.’ 

“Skipped out?” Five asked incredulously. “You think I had it easy, Diego? I was alone for 45 years!” Diego stared him down. “You know what? We don’t have the time for this right now.” Five turned away from him and started to pace back and forth. “Dad’s clearly in Dallas, right? Let’s just go talk to him. Maybe he can help us fix the timeline.” 

“Dallas is a big place.” He was still irritated at Five for wanting to run to Dad for help, but he was willing to set that aside so that he could save the president. “We need to find him first.” 

“Gee, if only we had some magical, old-timey way of finding people and their addresses,” Five said in the most sarcastic voice imaginable. God, he was so fucking annoying sometimes. 

****

After he and Five find their Dad’s address in the phone book, they start to head out before Five asked, “What about the girl?” 

Diego looked back at the now-empty chair where Lila had been sitting just minutes before. “Shit,” Diego said under his breath, turning on his heels to go look for her. He wouldn’t feel right leaving without saying goodbye, even if they were coming right back. He’d only known Lila for a few months, but he still felt some sort of a connection to her, one he was struggling to explain or even put a name to.

He eventually found her in the hall closet that Elliott had apparently converted into a dark room to develop the stalker pictures he took in the alleyway of Diego and his siblings. She was sitting curled up on the counter with her legs hugged to her chest, her face clearly tear stained. 

“What are you doing in here?” Diego questioned, trying to keep his voice soft so as to not upset her further. 

“Nothing, just...you know, getting some air,” Lila responded unconvincingly, wiping tears from her eyes. 

“In a closet?” He didn’t want to her to feel pressured to tell him anything, but he wanted to make sure she knew that she could talk to him. 

“There’s a draft,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. 

He glanced over his shoulder to see Five waiting impatiently by the staircase. “Alright, Lila, I gotta take off with Five, okay?” 

She cut him off before he could finish. “It’s happening again isn’t it?” 

“What is?” Diego asked, starting to get concerned. 

She spun her finger in a circle next to her head, the widely accepted sign for ‘crazy’, and said, “cuckoo,” barely holding back tears. “That home movie.” She finally looked up at him, the sight of her tear streaked face and red rimmed eyes prompting him to come closer to her. “Doomsday.” Her voice shook as she said, “Diego, the last time I started seeing things, they put me away. Maybe I shouldn’t have left.” 

She started crying again, which made his heart twist painfully. “Stop,” he said softly, looking over his shoulder to make sure Five wasn’t standing in the doorway. The coast was clear for now, so he slid onto the counter, facing Lila. “Do you,” he began, unsure of where he was going with this, only knowing that he wanted to make Lila feel better. “Do you believe there are things in this universe we’re never meant to understand?” 

“Well, I failed remedial school,” she said, her voice choked by tears. “Most things I don’t understand.” 

“Okay,” he continued, ready to do some serious therapy shit, only for Lila to cut him off again. 

“Like yogurt. How did it know how to stop being milk?” Lila asked, sounding so genuinely confused and upset that he can’t help but find her unbelievably adorable in that moment. 

“Okay. Like yogurt.” His brain went slightly fuzzy as her gorgeous brown eyes locked with his. “We don’t have to understand shit about it for it to be real,” he said in the softest and most comforting voice he could muster. “Right? Doesn’t make us crazy.” Her bottom lip quivered slightly. “That home movie,” he said, reaching out his hand to brush a tear from her cheek, “it’s just that. It’s like yogurt.” 

She held up her hand, extending her little finger. “Pinky swear?” 

He obliged, linking fingers with her. “The pinkiest,” he said, smiling slightly. Their fingers and eyes stayed locked for another moment, and he was hyper aware of every spot where her skin touched his. He broke his gaze, lightly touching her thigh as he pulled his hand away and stood up from his spot on the counter. “I gotta leave you here with Elliott, okay?” 

“Why?” Lila asked, clearly trying to hide the sadness and disappointment in her voice. 

He stood there for a moment, trying to come up with a good enough explanation, before settling on simply: “it’s a family thing.” He turned around and walked out the door, refusing to look back to see if she was watching him leave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will probably be up day after tomorrow because it includes the first sex scene I have ever written and I am horrifically embarrassed by it so I’m going to edit it 800 times until it’s perfect. Until then I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please leave kudos/comments because validation


	4. you put me on and said i was your favorite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me this is the first smut I’ve ever written. I hope it doesn’t suck. Chapter title from “cardigan” by Taylor Swift

Diego violently jolted awake, screaming out in pain at the searing agony in his torso.

Lila shushed him from where she was perched on top of his legs. “Don’t move. This thing is very finicky.” 

“What happened?” Diego asked, voice rough from sleep. If you can call being passed out from blood loss ‘sleeping.’

“I saved your stupid life,” Lila said, brows furrowed in concentration. 

“Were you following me?” He sounded more indignant than he probably should be while talking to someone who had two pointy objects near the open stab wound in his stomach. 

She looked up at him, irritated expression on her face. “Uh, hey, how about a little gratitude, knife boy?” He sighed heavily, using every ounce of his willpower not to correct her on that particular nickname. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be dead. That’s twice now, by the way.” 

He heard a metallic clink as Lila set down whatever she had been using on his stab wound, and then suddenly became horribly aware of something. 

Diego lifted his head off the couch to look at Lila, eyes wide with mild panic. “Where are my clothes? What the hell happened to my clothes?” He started to sit up, really not wanting to be naked around Lila in this situation. Maybe a different situation. Oh God, and she was sitting almost directly on top of his hips. This was about to get awkward. Goddammit, do _not_ think about that right now. 

“I said,” Lila stated, voice raised, “don’t move!” She firmly pressed the piece of metal to his wound again, sending a blinding flash of pain through his torso and the scent of burning flesh into the air. 

He yelled out in pain again, slumping back against the couch. Closing his eyes, he tried to distract himself from the combining sensations of horrible agony in his stomach and the pleasant weight of Lila on his legs, although the latter was mostly outweighed by the fact that she had just cauterized his wound with a soldering iron, none too gently, he might add. 

“There. That’s better,” she said, sounding pleased with his compliance. He might kill her. Or kiss her. Just as soon as he can move without her poking him with a hot metal rod. 

The sound of Five warping into the apartment interrupted his thoughts. “Oh. He isn’t dead,” Five said, far too unenthusiastically. Diego might kill him too. 

“Disappointed?” Lila asked. 

“Oh, to see you? Always,” Five retorted in his snarkiest voice, sounding every bit like the 58 year old man he actually is. 

“So much hostility in such a tiny package.” God, she has no idea. “Did you cut yourself shaving?” Apparently Five didn’t make it out of their little father-son reunion unscathed either. “I could teach you how to shave like a big boy.” 

Five gave an irritated sigh in response. “No, I just ran into an old family friend.” Who the hell could that be? Their father didn’t have friends. He barely had children. “You didn’t untie him?” 

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Five sounded almost impressed. Diego assumed he was talking about Elliott. He did feel kind of bad for tying the dude up, but he did accuse them of being traitors and almost shoot them. Seemed like a fair trade off.

“Was I supposed to?” Lila asked innocently. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could’ve sworn he saw Five smile. 

****

Diego woke up a couple hours later in Elliott’s bed, not entirely sure of how he’d gotten there. He had a vague memory of Lila bandaging up his wound and forcing him to rest. Admittedly, he did feel better, even though his torso still throbbed where his dad had stabbed him. 

At that thought, he started to get up, forcing himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He managed to stand up, ignoring the stab of pain, just as Lila came through the doorway. 

“You hungry?” Lila asked. “Elliott’s made moldy tuna.” 

“It’s a tuna _mold_ ,” Elliott’s voice said from the other room, sounding mildly offended and like this wasn’t the first time he’d had to correct Lila on this. 

“I’ll pass,” he responded. “Where’s my shirt?” He realized that he was still in the hideous underwear from the asylum, with a bloody stab wound on his torso and his hair probably a complete disaster from the various places he had passed out in over the past twelve hours. Definitely not what he should be thinking about right now. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” She furrowed her brows in confusion, leaning casually against the door frame. 

“This is all connected to JFK, and my dad’s right in the middle of it,” he said, starting to pull his pants on. “That’s why he attacked me last night.” He let out a grunt of pain at the movement. “Cause he knows that I’m actually getting closer to-“ 

He broke off with a yelp as Lila poked him directly in his wound with the end of a broom handle, falling backwards onto the bed. 

“Yeah, you’re in _such_ a fit state to fight,” Lila said sarcastically, leaning her chin on the broom handle. “You should probably go right now.”

“What is wrong with you?” Diego shouted at her, putting his hand to the bandage to staunch the fresh flow of blood. He was definitely going to kill her. 

“You almost got killed last night.” She sounded almost genuinely concerned, her voice softening slightly. “Take a day off.”

He grunted in pain and reluctantly conceded, slumping back onto the bed. He felt the bed dip beside him as Lila laid down next to him, her body pressed all along the side of his as she propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. He pointedly fixed his eyes on the ceiling. 

“I can’t believe I got shanked by my own father,” he said in a low voice. 

“I know. So rude.” Lila said sympathetically, leaning her face in closer. “Hey, if it’s any consolation, he probably didn’t know that you were his son when he shanked you.” It was, but barely. 

“Still,” he started, his face tightening at the memory and the pain, “he cheap-shotted me.” He felt anger rising in him at the thought. “Man to man, that son of a bitch wouldn’t stand a chance.” 

Even as he said the words, there was the tiniest flicker of doubt in him. His father was the one who had taught him how to fight. What if, after all these years, he still didn’t even live up to his expectations, much less possess the ability to beat him? To his horror, he felt tears starting to rise to his eyes. 

“Of course he wouldn’t,” Lila said comfortingly, patting his stomach a bit too close to his stab wound for comfort, causing him to have to stifle a noise of pain. 

“Why were you following me?” Diego questioned, finally turning to look at Lila. 

She sighed and rolled onto her back. “I thought you were taking off on me.” She made a noise that was clearly supposed to indicate indifference. “What people do.” 

That thought made him incredibly sad, and he felt compelled to say something, to comfort her in some way, but was cut off before he could find the words. 

“Hey, um,” Lila began, taking a deep breath, as if steeling herself for something. “You know, when you were lying there, I...I thought you were dead.” She sounded choked up, like she was on the verge of tears. “That’s how I found my parents.” He raised his head off the bed to look at her, struck dumb by her words. “Facedown in the living room.” She still refused to look at him, though he could see tears welling up in her eyes. “It was a home invasion.” 

He sat up at that, supporting himself on one elbow and twisting slightly to look more fully at her. “Shit,” he said under his breath. “How old were you?” 

“Four,” she said quietly, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“You never talked about that in group,” he responded helplessly, unable to conjure the words to express how he was feeling at the moment, unable to provide any semblance of comfort for the horrible pain she must deal with every day. 

She finally turned her head to meet his eyes. “I never talked about that with anyone.” 

He tried to think of what he could say that would make her feel better. “If you want to stay, longer, for a bit,” he began softly, keeping his voice even so as not to let on how desperately he wanted her to, “I guess that’s okay.” 

“Yeah?” Lila asked, her voice no longer choked by tears. 

“Yeah.” She sat up fully at his words, her face only inches away from his. He could feel her breath on his face, see each individual eyelash framing her beautiful brown eyes.

“Is it okay that I don’t hate you like I hate most people?” Lila questioned, some of her usual bravado coming back into her voice. 

He laughed softly at that, filled with an inexplicable joy at her response. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay by me.” 

She looked back at him, eyes filled with emotions he was sure were reflected in his own. Not wanting to squander this moment, he leaned in, finally doing what he had been thinking of almost constantly for more than a month and pressing his lips to hers, only for her to draw back and slap him across the face. 

He fell back onto the bed in shock. “Jesus!” Diego exclaimed in a mixture of confusion, anger, and pain. How in the hell had he read that moment so wrong? 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lila asked, sounding offended, as if she hadn’t been giving off every single signal possible that she wanted him the same way he wanted her. 

“I don’t understand you!” Diego yelled back, raising himself up slightly to look at her face, hoping for some kind of a clue as to what he had done wrong. He laid back and put his hands over his face, sighing heavily in defeat. 

He suddenly felt the heat of Lila’s body leaning over his, her lips pressing against his with a passion. A sudden pain in his torso forced him to lean back, muttering “ow, ow, ow,” under his breath. 

“Too much?” Lila asked, sounding concerned. 

“Just,” he began, putting his hands on either side of her face, “be gentle.” 

“Never,” she responded, leaning back in to kiss him once more, the lust in her voice matching the heat simmering low in his stomach. She threw one of her legs over his so that she was fully straddling him and deepened the kiss, gently pulling him up into a sitting position. 

The feeling of her lips moving against his was incredible, satisfying the deep need that had been inside of him ever since he had first met her at the asylum. He kicked his pants off of the one leg they had been hanging on and reached his hands up to undo Lila’s dress. 

Managing to get the buttons undone, she helped him pull the dress off her body and he threw it off the bed, hearing a loud thud as it smacked against the window. He slowly ran his hands up her newly bared legs, enjoying the shiver it elicited from her. 

She broke their kiss to pull her shirt over her head, and it sent a rush of blood to his cock to see that she was wearing nothing underneath. He did nothing but stare for a moment, struck dumb by how unbelievably beautiful she was. 

That didn’t last long, as she then pushed him back onto the bed, leaning over him to press open-mouthed kisses down his neck. He moaned as her teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot, sending jolts of pleasure all the way down to his toes. 

“As gorgeous as you look in white,” she whispered into his ear, “these definitely need to come off.” She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his underwear. He nodded in agreement, letting out a soft moan at the sensation of her fingertips tracing his hips, then traveling down his legs as she pulled the underwear all the way off.

Now fully bare, he became suddenly very conscious of the fact that he was already hard and dripping, barely resisting the urge to close his legs or cover himself in some way. 

Lila clearly noticed his discomfort, as she captured his lips in another passionate kiss, leaving him dazed and more turned on than he’s ever been in his life. 

Diego thrusted his hips up, desperately searching for some friction, only to wince in pain as the movement agitated his wound. Lila gently placed her hands on his hips, encouraging him to stay down, and more firmly settled herself astride his lap, her thighs bracketing his hips. 

The slight pressure on his cock caused him to let out a soft gasp of pleasure and buck his hips up once more, his gasp turning into a hiss of pain. 

“You said to be gentle,” Lila said, her rounded English vowels more pronounced than ever, “so lie back and let me take care of you.” 

He let out a deep moan at that. Most of his partners normally assumed that he would want to be in charge, as his whole vigilante and leather thing apparently gave off a very dominating vibe. In truth, the one thing he desperately wanted more than anything was for someone to hold him down, tell him what to do, even tie him down and draw it out until he was begging for release. He certainly felt ready to beg now.

“Please,” he gasped out. “Please, Lila, I need-” 

“Shh, I got you, darling,” she said, running her hands over his chest, smirking at the shiver it elicited from him when she brushed his nipples. “Sensitive?” Lila whispered hotly in his ear. He nodded his agreement, his eyes silently begging for more, for her to touch him, for something, anything. 

She obliged, leaning her head down to take one of his nipples into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the bud and teeth grazing the sensitive skin. He stifled a moan and shifted his hips in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure, arching his back with a gasp as his hardness pressed fully against her stomach. 

Lila smirked and ceased her ministrations, sitting up and moving off of his lap. He whined at the loss, a desperate, pleading noise that he didn’t have the mental capacity to be embarrassed by. He fell silent, however, when he saw her fingers hooking into the waistband of her own underwear, pulling them down and off her legs. 

The sight of her finally bare makes his cock twitch and his breath catch in his throat, the smooth expanse of her cappuccino skin the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

He crashed their lips together, his hands sliding up her back to fist in her hair. He planted his feet and ground his hips up against her thigh. She shuddered and let out a soft moan into his mouth, a sound that filled him head to toe with a pleasurable warmth, sending a jolt of arousal to his dripping cock. 

He tried to do it again, but she took back control by once again pushing his hips down onto the bed, lowering her head to bite and kiss her way down his chest. She lightly ground against his thigh, almost an unconscious movement, and he shivered when he felt how wet she was, how she was absolutely dripping just like him. 

God, he wanted to taste her. To be able to make her scream out in ecstasy and fall apart underneath him using nothing but his tongue. 

He was drawn out of his musings by Lila kissing his inner thigh, so close to where he’s aching that he shuddered with need. 

He reached a hand down to touch himself, to relieve some of the pressure, but Lila slapped his hand away. “Don’t worry, darling,” she murmured. “I’ll give you what you need.” And with that, she knelt between his legs, grabbed the base of his cock and licked a stripe up the underside, drawing a guttural moan out of him. 

She continued to lick the head of his cock, swirling her tongue around it as she pumped the rest of his length with her hand. It felt absolutely incredible, better than anyone else he’s ever been with, and he tried to tell her that, but the words came out as a strangled cry of pleasure. 

He realized distantly that there wasn’t a door to this room, and just hoped that Elliott either had really good noise cancelling headphones or had made himself scarce. 

Lila drove all thoughts of Elliott from his mind as she wrapped her lips around the head of his cock and sunk all the way down, nose brushing against his stomach. 

The wet heat of her mouth overwhelmed him, rendering him incapable of making any sounds other than desperate, pleading moans, and he had to use every ounce of his willpower not to come right then.

After a minute or so of blinding pleasure, he felt himself getting close to the edge and gasped out, “wait, wait,” and she immediately pulled off.

“Yes, wolf man?” Lila asked, her innocent tone in sharp contrast to her debauched appearance. He didn’t have the presence of mind to be irritated by the nickname, his brain short-circuiting at the sight of her swollen lips and flushed cheeks. 

“I need,” he stammered out, “I-I need-“ Goddammit. _Picture the word in your mind_. He closed his eyes tightly, taking a deep shuddering breath in an attempt to collect his thoughts. 

“What do you need?” He felt Lila trace his lips with her fingertip, a featherlight touch that made him shiver. 

“I need-I need y-your-“ he broke off, unable to get the words out, cursing under his breath and letting out a desperate needy whine. 

“It’s alright love, I got you,” Lila murmured in a soft voice, now soothingly stroking his cheek. “What do you need?” 

He breathed in deeply, reminding himself that he didn’t need to be nervous. This was Lila. The same person who had seen him break down crying and scream at nurses and pass out at the mere sight of a needle when they were in the asylum together. The same person who had gone after him when she was afraid he was leaving her, who had found him bleeding out on the pavement and bandaged him up. The same person who had trusted him with her worst memory. 

The same person who he was pretty sure he was falling in love with. 

That thought hit him like a ton of bricks. As he thought about it longer, he realized that this had been coming for a long time. Well. Orgasms now, declarations of love later. 

“F-fingers,” he managed to get out. “Your fingers.”

He felt himself flush in embarrassment, but thankfully Lila seemed to understand   
and just smiled, lightly dragging her fingers from his cheek to his lips, where he easily drew them into his mouth. 

He eagerly licked and sucked at her fingers, moaning the whole time as she fisted his cock with her other hand. She pulled her fingers out of his mouth when they were wet enough, a trail of saliva connecting them to his lips. 

He lifted his head up slightly, a silent plea, and Lila obliged, leaning her head down to capture his lips. At the same time, she moved her spit-slicked fingers down and out of sight as he spread his legs in anticipation. 

He felt a single finger circle his hole and broke the kiss, gasping at the sensation. “Relax,” she whispered into his ear, and the finger slowly pushed in. 

He did his best to relax, but he’d barely even had his own fingers in himself since his one drunken hookup with Rodriguez when he was still at the police academy. 

Lila pushed her finger in further, gently so as to make sure she doesn’t hurt him, and began placing kisses along his collarbones. She slowly worked the single finger in and out, and he let out a guttural moan as it brushed against something inside of him, sending bolts of electricity all along his body. 

“Another one, Lila, _please_ ,” Diego begged, his voice breaking off in a moan as she brushed the spot again. She withdrew her finger and pushed back in with two, the stretch burning in the best possible way. 

She began scissoring her fingers, stretching him open and pressing against his walls, and he bit his lip in an attempt to muffle the moans coming out of his mouth. 

Lila gently brushed his lip with her thumb. “I want to hear every single gorgeous sound you make, darling,” she whispered huskily, at the same time pressing her fingers directly against his prostate, wrenching a broken cry from his throat.

He immediately felt the stretch as she put in a third finger, the dry slide of them only adding to the friction, sending sparks of pleasure all through his body. “Please, Lila, I need-“ he broke off with a sob as she pushed all three fingers against his prostate. “I need-I-I need you to touch me, _please_.” 

“I am touching you,” Lila responded in a faux innocent tone, scraping his prostate with her nail and drawing a strangled scream out of his throat. 

He groaned in frustration, tears coming to his eyes, his cock so hard that it was a deep red and dripping, throbbing with arousal. He reached down to try to take himself in hand, only for Lila to once again slap his hand away, leaning in close enough for him to feel the heat of her breath against his lips. 

“I bet you can come from just my fingers, can’t you darling?” Lila asked, not waiting for a response before she began a gentle but unforgiving rhythm, moving her fingers in and out of his hole, hitting his prostate directly on every stroke. 

Diego couldn’t control the moans and sobs that spilled out of his mouth, the overwhelming pleasure stealing away any of his prior self consciousness, lost in a daze of arousal and ecstasy. 

When he felt himself getting close, he tried to gasp out a warning, and she merely pressed her fingers in again, rubbing hard up against his prostate. He glanced down and saw her fingers disappearing into him and the bracelet she was wearing on her wrist, the beaded one he had made on their last day in the asylum. He instantly toppled over the edge at the sight. 

He cried out her name as he came, overwhelmed with ecstasy. Lila let out a deep moan at the sight, her fingers withdrawing from him and leaving him feeling suddenly empty. Her other hand disappeared between her legs, rubbing furiously at herself. 

Still dazed from his orgasm and unable to sit up without immense amounts of pain, he could do nothing but watch enraptured as her hand sped up and listen to the gorgeous sounds that fell out of her parted lips. She moaned out his name as she came, collapsing on the bed next to him, careful not to fall on his wounded side. 

He felt suddenly exhausted, but still leaned in slightly to kiss Lila, holding back the confessions he so desperately wanted to blurt out. Their lips moved against each other, softly but firmly, and he tried to put every emotion he was feeling into the kiss, a wordless expression of his complete and utter infatuation. 

She broke the kiss and smiled at him, a pure and genuine smile that filled him with an overwhelming joy, before tucking her head into the crook of his neck and curling into his side. 

He wrapped his arm around her and turned more towards her, enjoying the comforting warmth of her body against his. As he closed his eyes, feeling more relaxed than he has in years, his last thought before he drifted off to sleep is simply: ‘ _I could get used to this._ ’

****

When he woke up, body still sated from pleasure, he reached out to pull Lila closer to him, only to find the rest of the bed empty and cold. Lila was gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y’all enjoyed! There will be many more chapters to come, i should be posting one every day or so once I’m done with them so stay tuned. Please leave kudos and/or comment if you liked it!


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